


Last Kiss (Unchanging)

by starjay



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Songfic, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starjay/pseuds/starjay
Summary: “You know I’ll choose you. I swear it by the moon.”“Swear not by the moon, for she is always changing, and a vow by her cannot be kept.”Or: Younghoon makes a heartfelt confession, but Chanhee knows better than to hope.
Relationships: Choi Chanhee | New/Kim Younghoon
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	Last Kiss (Unchanging)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueyouthheaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueyouthheaven/gifts).



> Wrote this on a whim at 2 am for blue because The Boyz and Got7 are two of her favourite boy groups so this is my way of doing a little crossover for them. Title and fic inspired by Not By the Moon by Got7. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't actually stan The Boyz and the extent of my "research" was an "unhelpful guide to the boyz" and a ship video, so I apologize for any mischaracterizations. Comments and criticisms are welcome!
> 
> Also highkey unbeta'd so any mistakes are entirely my own, apologies ;;
> 
> Enjoy~

The sun has just set when Chanhee ventures out of the abandoned cathedral in the middle of the forest with a woven basket in his hands, its top covered with a picnic blanket. He disappears into the foliage as night falls. Chanhee breathes a sigh of relief when the ancient, derelict building fades from his sight, but he doesn’t dare slow his pace. His coven would surely prevent him from ever going on his excursions again should they discover him now. To enter the forest during a normal time would be adventurous; to enter it during wartime is suicide.

Still, the prospect of danger does not deter him. Chanhee has been alive for centuries, has survived many wars, so the threat of one more does not loom over him as heavily as it should, even if this one concerns his people directly. Besides, he knows this side of the forest well.

His pace slows when he reaches a low picket fence made of pure silver, the metal glinting as coldly as the moon that is making her slow trek up the sky. It is the final warning that he is forfeiting the safety of his territory for no-man’s-land, but he only takes a second to climb over the fence. Chanhee drops to the other side, his supernatural reflexes allowing him to land softly without spilling the contents of his basket.

This side of the forest isn’t any different than his home on the surface, yet the temperature still seems to fall by ten degrees. He would be shivering if he still felt cold. Careful not to stray from the barely-there path now, Chanhee proceeds more cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings with alert. The forest of the night is alive with sounds, chirping insects and whispering faeries filling the wind.

It feels like an eternity when Chanhee finally reaches a massive spruce tree, who is not unlike his neighbours, though his lower branches have been cut to offer a perfectly round clearing to sit in. Peering up through the dense leaves, Chanhee makes out the crescent moon, nearly at the zenith, and concludes with satisfaction that he is just a bit early tonight.

Setting down his wicker basket, Chanhee first spreads the blanket on the needle-covered floor, before emptying the basket methodically. He starts with laying out a bowl of stew and a few side dishes, followed by a slice of rice cake sitting on a delicate flower plate. Finally, he takes out a wine glass and a decanter filled with a dark red liquid, setting both aside for now. He was once an excellent cook and still enjoys the art, though he can no longer consume human food. It is fortunate that he knows someone who still can.

He glances at the sky once more. The moon is shining above him, its light dimmed by a few passing clouds. Chanhee frowns, forcing himself to stay calm, though it proved to be a difficult feat. It is unlike his lover to ever be late, and Chanhee is an impatient person to begin with.

The leaves in front of him rustle suddenly, startling him as he is so on edge, before a figure emerges from the flora. Little light filters down to the forest floor, but Chanhee’s eyes are well adjusted to the nighttime, and he is able to make out Younghoon’s broad shoulders, the slope of his nose, his eyes dark and intense.

“You’re late,” Chanhee accuses with a smile on his lips, sitting to one side of the blanket to allow the werewolf to join him.

Younghoon leans down to peck his forehead as an apology before he sits down. “I had to wait for my pack to fall asleep. With the tensions running high, there are more guards around the village than usual. A war might start at any time, you know.”

Chanhee tilts his head in question. Although no formal battle has taken place, the slaying of a vampire was a clear indication that war between the two races has started. Perhaps news just had not reached Lee Sangyeon’s pack yet, for their village is further south. “A war?”

Younghoon’s eyes become serious. He plays with a few stray threads on Chanhee’s cloak for a moment as he contemplates his answer. “Our packs may go to war against your covens. I know you don’t like to pay attention to supernatural politics, baby, but this is important.”

“I’ve lived through many feuds between vampires and werewolves,” Chanhee says, forcing a laugh, “How important can this be?” He neglects to mention that in his long, long lifetime, the tension has never escalated to a full frontal war.

Younghoon shakes his head, exasperated, and makes to pick up a spoon. “Whatever. What about you, hmm? Heard anything lately?”

Chanhee perks up, eyes bright. “Not about the war, but a faerie visited the rooftop garden the other day. Eat, and I will tell you.”

Younghoon obliges as Chanhee launches into his tale. “So, anyway, this faerie, right? I think she was a pixie. Tiniest pinprick of light and fairy dust among the flowers. I was on the roof, searching for herbs for my latest concoction. I didn’t notice her at first, she must have been hiding among the flowers, but I’d seen her glow from the corner of my eye. Bright as a star, she was. Anyway, I tried to approach her, for I had never seen a pixie in my life - quit laughing, they don’t often venture from their flowerbeds - and how was I to know they are tricksters?”

“I think they are just mischievous,” Younghoon says, covering his mouth with a hand. “They don’t mean any harm.”

“Tell that to this faerie! As soon as I approached her, she’d darted to another flower, like she was provoking a chase. So of course, I set my herb basket down to follow her. I just wanted to get close enough to see her figure, but she was always just out of grasp, like a firefly, except she was also mocking me as she flew along. At least, I think she was mocking me. All her high-pitched squeaks sounded the same.”

“Maybe she just wanted to be left alone,” Younghoon suggests, amused.

“Well maybe she should have asked me politely!” Chanhee counters indignantly. “I am an apex predator, you know,” he says, showing off his sharp incisors.

“Very scary,” Younghoon drawls, not at all looking scared.

“Anyway,” Chanhee huffs, “at that point it was a matter of pride. I must have looked a fool, chasing a point of light around all alone on the roof. It was _my_ garden, you’d think she should at least pay me the necessary respect. And all this time, she is just making loops in the air, leaving behind a trail of dust that was making everything it touched glitter. She’d settle on a leaf or a flower petal just long enough for me to reach that side of the garden before flying off. Wings are an unfair advantage, I tell you.”

A pause, but no response. Chanhee looks towards Younghoon, but the werewolf was simply staring back at him with a fond expression.

“Hey, stop smiling, you’re supposed to agree with me - hey, are you even paying attention? Or are you just staring at me like a fool again?”

Caught in the action, Younghoon lowers his eyes with a blush. “I always pay attention to you,” he mumbles shyly, “to the way the moonlight brings out the flecks of gold in your eyes.”

Chanhee laughs, the clear sound ringing through the trees for a moment before it fades. “Shut up. You’ve been reading those human love stories again, haven’t you?”

“Oh, speaking of humans,” Younghoon says, fishing around in his pocket for a moment. “There’s something I wanted to show you.”

He pulls out a cube, and at first Chanhee thinks it’s simply a wooden toy that he’s carved for the pups in his pack. Upon further inspection, however, he realizes that each side of the cube is separated into nine squares, each a different colour. Seeing that he has Chanhee’s attention, Younghoon twists the top row of the cube, which rotates easily under his grasp.

“It’s a human toy Eric found when he was patrolling along the river,” Younghoon explains. “I think you have to make each side the same colour.”

Chanhee reaches out for the cube, twisting it in all directions. His brows furrow in concentration as he attempts to do as Younghoon suggested, only to no avail. At one point, he gets two rows of red to match up, but when he tries to get a third completed, his motions mess up his previous efforts. Finally, he tosses the toy back to Younghoon in annoyance.

“Witchcraft!” he declares with a pout. “That is impossible to solve.”

“Eric solved it,” Younghoon teases with a smile, though his tone is fond.

Hearing him speak about his pack members so lovingly always fills Chanhee with warmth, and he finds it hard to stay angry at the werewolf. “Perhaps he is a witch,” he says imperiously anyway, maintaining his straight face for no longer than two seconds before he bursts into laughter.

Younghoon is still smiling at him when he calms from his fit, and Chanhee looks away. His cheeks would be filling with blood had he been alive. Instead, he chooses to pour himself a glass of blood from his crystal decanter, taking a long sip before daring to meet his lover’s eyes once more.

“You’re still such a messy eater,” Younghoon admonishes, swiping at the corner of his lips and licking his finger clean.

Giggling, Chanhee takes the opportunity to steal a mischievous kiss from Younghoon. “That’s okay. I have you to clean it up for me.”

Younghoon rolls his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. Of course, Your Majesty. Anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty?”

Chanhee tilts his head to one side in mock-consideration, catching a quick glimpse of the moon’s position. He sobers up quickly, sliding up to Younghoon’s side.. “Yes. Stay with me, just a little longer.”

“I’d stay with you forever if I could,” he replies, reaching out his hands to hold Chanhee’s. 

Chanhee is uncharacteristically quiet for an instant, studying the contrast between Younghoon’s rough, work-scarred hands and his own pale, smooth ones. He is not made of glass, yet Younghoon sometimes treats him like he is anyways, and maybe that is why the moment seems so fragile, like it could shatter if he so much as breathes.

“But you can’t,” he finally settles on saying.

“Maybe not right now. But just because tensions are high does not mean they cannot be resolved by diplomacy,” Younghoon counters. “And anyway, if war does break out, I’d come find you. Take you away to some place where the conflict will not touch us.”

As if sensing his unease, Younghoon adds quietly, “You know I’ll choose you. I swear it by the moon.”

Chanhee remembers all the times his lover spoke proudly about the pups, the way his eyes light up when he mentions their latest hunting success, or when he seems to sit a little straighter whenever his pack is brought up. He thinks, _will you?_

“Swear not by the moon,” Chanhee replies instead, equally softly, “for she is always changing, and a vow by her cannot be kept.”

Younghoon laughs. “Poetic. But that’s just an optical illusion, you know? Even if the moon has phases, it is always the moon.”

Chanhee forces himself to grin, shrugging half-heartedly. “That’s what the humans believe.”

“Whatever the moon is, it’s setting, and I must return to my pack before anyone suspects.”

“Alright,” Chanhee says simply.

He begins returning the used dishes to their place in the basket, placing the blanket gently over it again. Chanhee gets to his feet, Younghoon doing the same.

“I’ll see you again? Same time next week?” Younghoon says. Chanhee wishes his words did not sound like questions, wishes that his lover would speak with more certainty.

“Yeah, of course.” He finds it in himself to tease, “So long as you aren’t late again.”

“It was one time!” Younghoon protests, leaning down slightly to kiss his giggles away.

Chanhee reaches up with one hand to hold Younghoon’s face, deepening the kiss. Sunrise is a few hours away, which is why the night seems darker than ever, but there is still something magical about the ambience, something desperate about a meeting which may never occur again, at least, on friendly terms. He yearns to freeze time in this moment, to capture the kiss, forever unchanging.

They break apart when Younghoon gasps for air. “I love you,” the werewolf whispers against his lips.

“I love you too,” Chanhee says, stepping back. _See you next time_ , is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. “Goodbye,” he says instead, ignoring Younghoon’s questioning look as he disappears into the cold embrace of the forest.


End file.
